


A Week in Charleston

by nothingeverlost



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23636218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingeverlost/pseuds/nothingeverlost
Summary: “You’re supposed to save the compliments for when your family is around.”  He was carrying the ‘fake girlfriend’ thing a bit far, but perhaps it was practice.He didn’t need practice.
Relationships: Benoit Blanc/Marta Cabrera
Comments: 20
Kudos: 108





	1. Saturday Morning

**Author's Note:**

> For Cablanca week, Day Six, Prompt 'Trope'. I picked fake dating/needa date for a wedding.

Marta gave one last look in the mirror before deciding there was nothing else she could do. Her makeup was done, her hair pinned up in deference to the heat, and she was wearing the less formal of the two dresses she’d brought with her. When Benoit had asked her to come to his cousin’s wedding she hadn’t realized it would be a two day affair. To be honest she hadn’t thought much about it at all; the idea of spending a week in Charleston at Benoit’s house had occupied a lot more of her thoughts than the wedding.

“Is this alright?” She stepped out of the bathroom in her knee length lace dress and flat sandals; she wasn’t good at walking in heels even on the best day and she was too nervous to attempt them for a backyard barbeque. The dress only had the thinnest of straps and she worried that maybe it was a little too showy. Alice had talked her into it, but the pale fabric beneath the lace made it almost seem as if her own skin was showing through.

“Only thing I can see wrong with it is the fact that every man at this thing is going to wish you were there with them, not me.” Benoit was sitting on the arm of the sofa, dressed in a blue suit that highlighted his eyes in a way that should be criminal. He didn’t wear a tie, though she could see his suspenders where the jacket gaped a little. The first couple of buttons of his shirt were undone, his skin more tanned now that it was summer. “You look prettier than a Georgia peach in summer.”

“Alice helped me pick out the dress.” She looked down self consciously and wondered if it was too warm for one of her cardigans.

“The dress is mere window dressing, though I do compliment your sister on her good taste.” He stood and picked up a gift from the table. “Shall we go?”

“You’re supposed to save the compliments for when your family is around.” He was carrying the ‘fake girlfriend’ thing a bit far, but perhaps it was practice. He didn’t need practice.

“I speak a simple truth.” He locked the door of the apartment behind them, leading the way to his car. Marta tried to remember if anyone had opened the car door for her before. Not only did Benoit open it, but he closed it as well after asking if she minded holding the gift.

“What’s in this thing? It weighs a ton.” The box wasn’t much more than a foot cubed, but it was heavy. “You’re not giving someone weights as a wedding gift, are you?”

“It’s a cast iron pot and my momma’s secret fried chicken recipe. You can never go hungry as long as you have a good piece of cast iron and know how to fry up a chicken.” Benoit grinned at her before starting the car.

“You can make fried chicken?” The subject of cooking hadn’t come up before. There were a lot of things they hadn’t talked about, their friendship starting with knives and blood and vomiting rather than favorite colors and how they each liked their coffee. She worried that it would make it harder to sell this relationship they were pretending. One of Benoit’s cousins had apparently threatened to set him up with a blind date for the wedding. She was the one that had offered to come when he’d clearly been unhappy with the idea of attending with a stranger. She didn’t regret the offer, but a barely begun friendship and a romantic relationship weren’t the same thing. 

“I can make a great many things, and once we’ve gotten through this weekend I’ll show you what proper southern food is supposed to taste like. My momma always said that a man should know how to fill his own belly. When I was older she told me it was good for courtin’ and marriage too.”

“You never married?” He’d never mentioned an ex but that didn’t mean anything. She’d been engaged once and he didn’t know that.

“I think that’s the only regret my momma had, that she didn’t get to see me get married to a woman. She would have liked to be a grandma. Would have been a good one too.” He turned onto a road that took them away from the main part of town. There were only a few houses on the road.

“It’s legal now to marry anyone you want.” He was fifty, and a bachelor. It occurred to Marta that there might be another reason why he’d never married. A reason he’d rather have a friend pretend to be his date rather than have someone set him up with a woman.

“It’s always been…oh.” He almost missed a stop sign, breaking hard and pausing a moment before turning to look at her. “I’m not gay. I like women just fine, and I respect every one I’ve been in a relationship with. But there’s a difference between enjoying being in bed with a woman and finding the one person that you want to share your whole life with. Someone sexy and fun but also warm and intelligent and good and kind. Someone you want to talk to at any moment of the day and someone you ache for when you’re apart. I was taught that marriage is forever and I wasn’t going to ask anyone to marry me unless I believed it was a forever love.” 

“Oh.” She’d only seen his eyes look that intense before, and didn’t know what to do about it. It was beautiful, but it made her a little sad too. He would make someone a wonderful husband. He deserved to have someone that would listen to him, and share their day with him, and love him.

The rest of the ride was silent and not very long. Benoit pulled into a parking lot already crowded with cars. A park spread out before them, picnic tables covered in linen tablecloths far too nice for a park, tree trunks wrapped in twinkle lights and flower garlands, and in the center a gazebo where a band was already set up but not playing.

“Ready?” he asked when he opened the door for her and took the present.

“Anything I should know?” He hadn’t told her much beyond the fact that a younger cousin was getting married, and that some of the guests would be family.

“If any of my relatives tell you stories about me take ‘em with a grain of salt. And don’t worry about anything, just enjoy yourself.” He balanced the gift on his hip, holding it with his left hand. His right settled at the small of her back, warm and comforting. “I’m glad you came.”

“I am too.”


	2. The First Cousin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strand of hair had escaped from her bun and he had the urge to touch it. Fortunately his hands were occupied, and then Savannah was upon them, kissing his cheek and handing off the present he’d brought to one of their younger cousins.

When he’d mentioned the wedding to Marta he hadn’t planned to invite her. She’d caught him only a few minutes after hanging up from his cousin Chris, and he’d found himself telling her about the unexpected and unwanted offer of a blind date. He didn’t like lying, even to himself, so he had to admit that he was a little curious if she might say anything about him going on a date. It wasn’t a subject they’d broached before. They hadn’t discussed anything that friends wouldn’t, though he hoped the attraction he felt wasn’t one-sided. What he hadn’t expected was her offer to go to the wedding. They couldn’t set him up, could they, if he RSVPed to the wedding with a plus one?

That had been three weeks ago, and between making arrangements and a case that had him in LA for a week he hadn’t had much chance to dwell on what it would be like to take Marta to a wedding. To take Marta anywhere, really. In retrospect he wished he’d managed to take her out to dinner before attending a gathering of his entire family. Certainly it might have at least cleared up the question of his sexuality; he was playing his cards a little too close to the vest if she really had no idea that he was attracted to her. Then again he didn’t want to move too fast; wasn’t sure he should make a move at all. After all there were a dozen good reasons why a relationship between them was probably a terrible idea. 

Right now all he needed to think about was the next few hours and making sure his family didn’t completely overwhelm Marta.

“Beau! Finally.” It was no surprise that Savannah was the first to greet them when they’d barely left the parking lot. Savannah was the oldest of his cousins and the first in everything from the moment she was born. The first to ride a bike, go to college, marry (and the first to divorce) and have a child. The first to show up at any party and in any time of trouble. 

“Beau?” Marta asked softly just before Savannah reached them.

“Nickname left over from my childhood,” he said with a shrug. No one in the world called him Beau unless they were a member of his family. There had been a time when it was the only name he’d answered to, but that had been a long time ago.

“I like it.” A strand of hair had escaped from her bun and he had the urge to touch it. Fortunately his hands were occupied, and then Savannah was upon them, kissing his cheek and handing off the present he’d brought to one of their younger cousins.

“Marta, meet my cousin Savannah, grandmother to about half the young ‘uns running around here. Sav, this is my friend Marta. This is her first visit to Charleston.” Internally he chided himself for mentioning the grandkids before anything else. Savannah was only a few years older than himself. Had his life been different he too could be a grandfather. It wasn’t exactly something he liked to think about, not when his job often did enough to make him feel old and tired. Not when she was so young and bright and free to do anything she wanted.

“You exaggerate, dear. Only eleven of mine are running around. Hunter hasn’t learned to walk yet. Bonnie’s expecting, though, so this autumn I’ll be up to a baker’s dozen.” Savannah turned her attention to Marta, briefly giving Benoit a glance that said she wasn’t buying ‘friends’ “Come find me later, dear, and I’ll tell you as many stories about Beau as you like. My favorite involves a borrowed motorcycle and an unplanned swim.”

“You’re not the only one with stories, Sav. I could tell Elton and Keith a few things.” The story she threatened was a mild one, and almost thirty-five years old. Savannah didn’t have a malicious bone in her body unless you hurt her family. He wasn’t quite ready for Marta to learn of his foolish teenage flirtations, though.

“I’ll see you later, Marta. And make sure Beau takes you someplace nice while you’re here. Don’t let him drag you to forts or other dreary places.” She offered a smile to Marta and a sharper, more pointed look to her cousin. “We’ll catch up later.”

“She is certainly full of energy,” Marta commented as Savannah moved onto the next family member. The whole exchange had barely taken a minute.

“She’s a born busy body in the most well meaning of ways. When I was seven she found out that the reason I was hungry after school every day was another child relieving me of my lunch money. She was in middle school by then but she showed up before lunch the next day and made it very clear what would happen to Jimmy Lee if the situation continued. He wasn’t stupid enough to test her.” She was a big sister in everything but name. He might be an only child but most of his mama’s family was in Charleston. With six aunts and seven uncles there had been many cousins and family members around. And currently at least a hundred of them were scattered around the park. For the dozenth time he wondered if accepting Marta’s offer was the best idea, but it was too late now. And he couldn’t deny that he liked having his hand at the small of her back. “Let’s go find something to drink before we’re waylaid again.”

“Any chance you’ll tell me the motorcycle story?” Marta teased as they headed for one of the refreshment tables. There were pitchers of sweet tea, lemonade, sangria, and water infused with fruit. Below the table were coolers full of beer and pop.

“Just a warning if you’re going for the tea, sweet tea is not the same thing as sweetened tea. It’s a bit more sugar than you like.” She put less sugar in her coffee than he did, and he didn’t like very much. “And no, there’s not a chance. Let’s just say there’s a reason I have’t ridden a motorcycle since I was fifteen.” 

“I rode my bike into a car when I was learning and sprained my wrist. I wouldn’t touch it again for a year, and only learned because Alice did and I couldn’t let her beat me.” Marta opted for a water. He helped himself to a beer. It was ice cold, as it should be on a warm spring afternoon. 

“I loved my bike. It was absolute freedom, riding to my cousins’ houses, or down to the creek. I wasn’t very good at sports as a kid but I sure could ride a bike just about anywhere.” And speaking of cousins he could see two of them bearing down on them. “Prepare yourself, darlin’ and remember don’t believe most of what they say and if anyone’s annoying you just let me know.”


End file.
